


study habits/habitudes d'études

by Poutini



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Lots of French idioms, M/M, Repurposing of canon dialogue, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini
Summary: Night Owl meets Early Bird in this University AU.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 90
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a flickering fluorescent bulb and the hum of several others on their last legs. 

The tables are all varying degrees of wobbly, and the cracks in the hard resin of the chairs show their age. 

The cost of snacks from the vending machine borders on extortion, and the refillable water station could probably stand to have its filter replaced.

But after 10 pm, when the cafeteria shutters for the night and the lingering crowd dissipates, it’s blissfully quiet, and David can settle in for a night of studying. 

The verbs swim on the page in front of him. The rules and the exceptions to the rules taunt him. 

He curses the foreign language requirement, and berates himself for leaving its fulfillment until the last possible moment. If there’s one saving grace, it’s the abbreviated length of the spring term. 

_ Saving grace,  _ he mutters to himself.  _ More like coup de grâce.  _

One more week. Just one more week, one final exam, and he can bid this chapter  _ adieu _ and this institution  _ au revoir  _ for good.


	2. Chapter 2

The table dips as some interloper sets down their books and settles into a nearby chair, but David doesn’t even look up. At best, he can’t risk distraction. At worst, he’s really not in the mood to be the victim of a hate crime. 

He’s made good progress, if the stack of colour-coded cue cards containing common idiomatic expressions is any indication. He yawns when he checks the time, seeing it’s just past 5 am. There’s time for a short nap before the torment that is the language lab. If there’s anything worse than memorizing nonsensical turns of phrase -  _ mustard up your nose, seriously  _ \- it’s having to don headphones discarded from a classroom in the 1980s and record himself repeating verb conjugations onto a cassette tape. 

As David stands up, he glances at his table mate who has spread out what looks like a whole lot of mathematical  _ nope _ in front of himself. He’s got his head in his hands, fingers tangled in curls, and he’s dressed like every other jock that lives in residence - socks and sandals, sweats, and a hoodie, but it somehow works for him.  _ Cute _ , David thinks. He looks up at David, his eyes a little red, possibly from some low quality campus weed or maybe just that it’s 5 am. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly into a small smile, but it quickly disappears as the approaching scuff of worn down UGGS on the linoleum floor comes to a stop. 

A redhead, flushed with anger, drops a residence key card onto the table. She says nothing, but huffs with frustration as she scuffs her way towards the stairs, the sound drawing David’s focus.

The sound of a sniff brings his attention back to the boy at the table, whose hands are gripping a laminated reference sheet, and whose eyes are once against downcast. _Ah,_ _that explains the red eyes_. David steels himself for a conversation he really doesn’t want to have, but this guy _n’est pas dans son assiette_ and David doesn’t feel right just walking away. 

“Are you ok?” he asks carefully. 

The boy nods slowly. He clears his throat before he speaks softly. “Yeah. Just, uh, clearing up some loose ends, you know?” He glances in the direction of the stairs. 

David offers a sympathetic smile, and gestures to the space he’s cleared on the table. “It’s all yours. I’m going to crash.”

The boy laughs. “Thanks. I have a midterm at 8:30, so…”

David pushes his chair in. “Well, good luck.” He waves his hand over the sheets laid out before the boy. “This all seems a little last minute.”

The boy laughs again and David’s breath catches a little at the sight and sound. He heads for the stairs, but can’t help looking back one more time, and his stomach swoops when he sees the boy is still looking too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language labs are the work of the devil. 
> 
> Translation:  
> "n'est pas dans son assiette" literally means to not be in his plate, but is taken to mean not doing well. 
> 
> "avoir la moutarde qui monte au nez" literally means to have mustard going up your nose, but is taken to mean to lose one's temper.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sur, sous, dans, devant, derriere, devant derriere_

“You know - “

David jumps. His hands still, and he immediately stops his soft singing. He turns around to see that cute boy from yesterday morning behind him, grinning. A quick check of the clock confirms it’s a little past 5 am. 

“I was in French Immersion until grade 9, if you need help. I think I’ve still got my Bescherelle even.”

David grimaces. “I don’t know what that means.”

The boy’s smile only widens. He extends his hand. “Patrick.”

David shakes his hand. “David.”

The boy, _Patrick_ , slides into the empty chair across from David. He picks up a cue card.

“J’ai des autres chats à fouetter,” he reads awkwardly. “What does that mean?”

David sighs. He _really_ isn’t in the market for a study buddy. “I have other things to do,” he mutters. 

Patrick’s face falls. He starts to stand.

“No!” David stammers. “Literally, that’s what it means. I have other things to do.” He gestures for Patrick to return to his seat. “How did your midterm go?”

Patrick shrugs. “Slam dunk.” 

David’s face broadcasts his lack of comprehension of sports vernacular. Patrick amends his answer. “Fine, it was fine. Now I just need to get these grant applications done for grad school.”

David blanches at the thought of _more_ school. “What will you do if you don’t get the grants?”

Patrick’s face turns serious, his voice lowers half an octave. “Oh, I’m gonna get the money.”

David is speechless. And a little turned on. And not entirely sure of this boy’s preferences. But also, a lot tired, and needing to catch some sleep before language lab, and the viewing of the conclusion of Luc Besson’s 1990 action thriller _La Femme Nikita_. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Patrick asks as David packs his satchel. He sounds hopeful. He looks _adorable_.

David smiles and nods before turning to head upstairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ This ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdNL3IsAftA) is the song David is singing to practice his prepositions. 
> 
> Translation:  
> "J'ai des autres chats à fouetter." literally means "I have other cats to whip". Super fun to use this direct translation in English. Trust me.


	4. Chapter 4

David can barely keep his eyes open. It’s still only half past four - at least 45 minutes before Patrick usually arrives, but David just can’t.stay.awake. Besides, sure Patrick is cute, but David’s at least 87% sure he’s straight, and if Patrick wants to be his friend, then he’ll have to adjust to David’s schedule and forgive the occasional flake out. With a yawn so big it makes his eyes water, David gathers his stuff and heads upstairs. 

By the time Patrick jogs down the stairs, arriving in the cafeteria breathless, it’s nearly a quarter to six, and there’s no trace of David Rose. 

//

David is exhausted after Language Lab. There’s only so much inauthentic conversation in a language he barely understands that he can handle in one day. The stilted sentences in anglophone accents, improvised Frenglish, and Jose’s tendency to slip in the odd Spanish word by accident have given him a headache. Never mind that it’s now past noon, and there’s been radio silence from his family. On his birthday. 

As a gift to himself, he decides on an indulgent afternoon nap. As a gift to his GPA, he commits to studying when he wakes up.

//

In the light of day, the fluorescent light still flickers. The hard resin of the chair still makes his hips ache. The table wobbles worse, with several others sharing the space. It smells of fresh deep fried food and rancid, hours old coffee, instead of the usual eau de grease that lingers after the cafeteria has closed for the day.  _ Four more days _ , David thinks to himself as he slinks into a corner chair.  _ Just four more days. _ He keeps his head down as he opens his book and arranges his cue cards. 

Enough time has passed that David assumes afternoon classes are over and the early dinner rush has begun. He’s nearly finished the corrections on his latest assignment when someone slides into the chair next to him. Uncomfortably close. David’s head whips up to see who would be so bold as to insert themselves into another human’s personal space. 

_ Patrick _ . 

He’s traded in the sweats and hoodie for a pair of jeans and a henley. His socks and sandals have been replaced by shoes that look like something Oprah might wear on a Thanksgiving hike. Despite his choice of footwear only being a marginal improvement, he looks  _ good. _

“Hi,” Patrick breathes out. 

David gives him a tight-lipped smile and a curt reply. 

“This morning - “ Patrick starts to explain.

“I couldn’t stay awake!” David interrupts. 

“I slept in!” Patrick retorts.

They both laugh. 

David sorts through his cue cards of French idioms and passes one to Patrick. 

“ _Faire la grasse matinée_ ,” he reads aloud. “I remember this one. I was late nearly every morning in Grade 7 because  _ Happy Days _ was on reruns late at night.”

“The Fonz seems like an acceptable reason to be tardy,” David reassures him. 

Patrick blushes. “Yeah, wouldn’t really put two and two together for awhile. But men in leather? Yes, please.”

David’s jaw drops. He’s unsure how to react to that. “Uh - “

“ _Happy birthday_ ,” a snarky voice chimes behind him. **Saving him**. _But at what cost_?

Stevie plops herself in a chair across from David and Patrick. Patrick, who is now looking at David with a wide smile. 

“It’s your birthday? Happy birthday! How old are we?”

David’s face sends the message loud and clear that he will not be answering that question. 

He does, however, introduce Stevie and Patrick to each other. And they spend the next 20 minutes picking on David at every opportunity, before Stevie’s watch reminds her that she has an assignment due in an hour, and she gets up to leave. 

“I like him,” she says to David before turning to Patrick. “I like you.” 

And with that she’s gone. 

“So, what are your plans for the rest of your birthday?” 

David shuffles through his cue cards, carefully selecting three and placing them before Patrick on the table. 

_ Boire comme un trou _

_ pleuvoir des cordes _

_ n’en faire pas tout un fromage _

Patrick scrutinizes the words in front of him, furrowing his nearly non-existent brow.

“Drink like a hole, cry some ropes, and don’t make it all a cheese?”

David shrugs. Close enough. 

Patrick takes a deep breath. “We could do a birthday dinner? I hear the second floor cafeteria food is moderately edible?”

“You don’t have to do that,” David assures him. 

Patrick’s voice cracks a little as he presses on. “No, no. I’d like to. Are you ready now? Why don’t we go put our stuff away and I’ll meet you there in 15?”

David’s face softens. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Boire comme un trou" means literally to drink like a hole, and is taken to mean to drink heavily. 
> 
> "pleuvoir des cordes" means literally to rain ropes, sort of like raining cats and dogs. David is taking some liberties with the usage of this idiom.
> 
> "n’en faire pas tout un fromage" means literally to not make a whole cheese out of it, or to not make it a big deal.
> 
> "Faire la grasse matinée" means literally to make a fat morning, but is used for sleeping in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.  
> Motivation has been lacking, due to, you know, the whole global pandemic thing.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Oh! I've joined the tumblr if anyone wants to yell at me, or provide me with prompts that are conducive to short snippets of smut and fluff! I am cheesecurdsgravyandfries.

Patrick is tucked into a booth when David arrives. Patrick has added a blazer to his outfit, and David has undergone a full wardrobe change - black jeans, and a black sweater with a large white bolt of lightning on the chest. Patrick feels a little like he’s been struck by lightning - and two years from now, when David is pressing kisses into Patrick’s skin as they celebrate their engagement, Patrick will tell him about this moment and David will whisper -  _ coup de foudre  _ \- as his lips ghost up Patrick’s inner thigh. 

But for now, it’s a little awkward as they greet each other and move to the line to buy their dinner. 

There’s no acceptable dessert, and the fire code probably wouldn’t permit candles anyway, so Patrick chooses the best approximation of a candle shape that he can find to add to his segregated food tray. The mozzarella sticks look a little droopy, and the marinara is clearly just spaghetti sauce from a can, but the smile David gives him when he uses the deep fried cheese to toast David’s birthday makes the ingestion of such mediocre fare worth it. 

Conversation flows easily. Patrick tells David what had happened that first morning - the finality of a months long break-up. He says “I’m gay,” quiet on an exhale. Words he’d only said three times prior - to Rachel, to his counselor, and one time at a Maroon 5 concert - where only he knew that they were meant for Adam Levine and not only because Patrick appreciated his vocal talents. Two days from now, when David is exploring Patrick’s neck with his lips, trailing down to his collarbones, he’ll murmur about Patrick being  _ bien dans sa peau _ .

David tells him about his family - how far they’ve come, and how much they’ve grown, since losing their money, and what it’s been like to slowly build relationships along with the new Rosebud Motel Group empire. How he’d gone back to finish his arts degree, and dreamed of owning his own store. Six months from now, as David lies curled up on Patrick’s chest, legs tangled together, sated and happy, Patrick will trace patterns on David’s skin while he tells him about the space he just leased, the business license that he just framed, and the sign above the door with David’s name on it, and David will gasp and accuse Patrick of  _ telling salads _ before happy tears spill down both of their cheeks. 

When the cafeteria closes, Patrick walks David to his dorm room, where they banter back and forth until their lips finally find each other. David wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck and presses a kiss to his temple, whispering  _ prendre son courage à deux mains _ , before softly kissing him one last time for the night. He’ll whisper those words again and again as Patrick crosses the stage with honours, comes out to his parents, and takes centre stage in a community production of Cabaret. 

But tonight,  _ c’est la fin des haricots _ , with a promise to study together in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "avoir un coup de foudre" = to be hit by lightning, but taken to mean love at first sight.  
> "bien dans sa peau" = literally, to be well in one's skin, taken to mean comfortable with oneself.  
> "raconter des salades" = literally, telling salads, but taken to mean telling lies.  
> "prendre son courage à deux mains" = literally to take one's courage in both hands, taken to mean to overcome fear, or act bravely.  
> "c'est la fin des haricots" = literally, it's the end of the beans. Meaning there is no more.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: the study space as described here is an accurate description of the subterranean cafeteria where I spent a lot of time studying in my first year of university.


End file.
